Sunsets, Rants and Konica Minoltas
by Kuroaki
Summary: Tezuka wants to know something. But Fuji won't tell him. Or so he thinks. Oneshot. FujiTezu.


**Sunsets, Rants, and Konica Minoltas**

There were some things about Fuji that Tezuka thought he'd never understand.

One of them was the fact that every time they watched the sunset, Fuji would start ranting.

Maybe ranting was a bit too harsh, considering the delicate sweet soft voice Fuji always spoke in. But Tezuka couldn't really think of another word to use other than that – ranting.

And Tezuka didn't get his rant, even though the rants were almost exactly the same year after year. It had been ten years already, but Fuji was still ranting about the same thing every time they watched the sunset.

"Ne, Tezuka. The sunset's beautiful isn't it? But every sunset is different. Sure it involves the sun setting, but many things make it different. Which country you were in. Which beach it was. The sea at that time. The colour of the clouds. The number of clouds. If there are any ships on the horizon, or birds. You know what? I really really regret that time when I watched the sunset. It was my first time, and I was so excited so I took my camera with me, the Konica Minolta digital one that Saeki got me for my birthday. And I know you've heard this so many times, but I just can't get over it. I can't believe I watched my first sunset on an LCD screen of a Konica Minolta digicam."

And so the rant would go on, on how Fuji couldn't believe that he was that stupid to waste his first sunset with a stupid machine.

Tezuka didn't really understand, because he thought that even though Fuji had so-called missed his first sunset, hadn't he caught it on camera? (In fact, he had 30 shots devoted to that sunset alone, capturing the whole progress of the sun's descent. Tezuka was often forced to look and reminisce, although it wasn't as bad as it was repetitive.) And besides, he'd seen many other sunsets and surely they had to be equally as beautiful as the first. And shouldn't Fuji be more concerned with how he caught the sunset on camera, given that he was a photography enthusiast?

These thoughts often ran through Tezuka's mind when Fuji began to rant. But Tezuka had not voiced them out.

However, he decided that that evening would be different. That evening, on their 11th anniversary, Tezuka Kunimitsu would ask Fuji Shuusuke why exactly he couldn't let the whole first sunset matter go.

The evening was nice and cool. There weren't many people around – Fuji had chosen a great spot as always – something Tezuka assumed came with years of photography experience, or something. The view of the horizon was clear. There were few clouds obscuring the sky, and the sun was luxuriously golden. A good sunset it promised to be.

As the big golden ball began its descent, Tezuka waited for Fuji to begin his rant. He gazed at the said boy, watching the sun's rays play on his face. He had a serene look about him, as he always did, but Tezuka was pretty sure his smiling mouth would start moving soon, and then Tezuka would get his chance.

The sun touched the horizon. Tezuka waited.

And waited.

But Fuji didn't speak

After a while, Tezuka thought Fuji was rather behind schedule for his rant, and waited impatiently for Fuji to begin. But even as he stared at the auburn-haired boy, Fuji only kept smiling.

Tezuka had a feeling that he was doing it on purpose. As if he knew that after all these years, Tezuka was finally going to ask him about it, and just to tease him, Fuji wasn't going to say a word. He was purposely making it difficult for him.

Tezuka wanted to ask, very badly. It was as if the curiosity had built up, ever since the first time he'd heard The Rant. And right now after ten years, he really really really just wanted to know what was behind The Rant.

But Fuji wasn't providing him an opportunity at all.

Suddenly Fuji's lips parted, and Tezuka held his breath in anticipation.

"It's over."

Startled, Tezuka looked at the sea. Sure enough, the sun was gone. All that was left was the weak dying rays of whatever light was left.

And suddenly Tezuka understood why Fuji had ranted for ten years, and for the eleventh year, had chose to remain silent.

Like Fuji, he had been too fixated on one thing – wanting to know the reason behind the Fuji's Rant – that he had forgotten what was more important: to enjoy the sunset with Fuji.

It was _so _Fuji to explain without using words.

owari

A/N: Yanno what this is? This is just MY rant on how I watched my first (and probably only sunset) on a Konica Minolta LCD screen! I was so caught up in capturing the moment, I realized that I had missed the chance to witness something beautiful with my own eyes.


End file.
